The Best Bet (9 page)

“Was it that painful to watch?” He could talk freely now. It was as if they shared a special secret: his valiant but ridiculous charade.

She threw back her head and laughed that deep throaty way of hers. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never tire of hearing her laugh.

“At first, but you caught on fast.”

“All smoke and mirrors and watching the other players. I really didn’t have a clue, especially at first.”

“That was obvious,” she said.

He grinned and directed her to the line of people waiting for taxis at the front of the hotel. He asked again, “Do you need to move your car?”

“You’re really serious about this taxi thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

She stood on tiptoe in her high heels and looked around. She motioned to one of the valet parkers. The youth hurried to her side, asking what he could do for her while openly admiring her figure in the clinging dress.

The youth’s wandering eye lanced through Rafael. His gut tightened, and he clenched his fists at his side.

What was this all about? He wasn’t accustomed to primitive protective urges. And it wasn’t as if the kid was Mr. Henderson, talking insolent trash to her. All the valet had done was run his eye over her with obvious male admiration.

Breathing slowly, Rafael loosened his hands. That was twice he’d been willing to go to the mat for Adriana, to physically accost someone. He shook his head. This was starting to get scary. Even with his fiancé, he’d never felt so strongly about a woman before.

The youth took her keys. She turned to Rafael and said, “That takes care of my car. Where’s our taxi?”

“Right here.” He steered her toward a waiting taxicab, while the doorman held the door open for them.

“Take us to the Stratosphere,” he told the driver when they’d settled inside. Then he glanced at her. “Have you been to the top?”

“No, I’ve wanted to go, but haven’t found the time.”

“They say it’s great at twilight, when all the lights come on.”

She smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

He was pretty sure he understood her smile. Showing Adriana Las Vegas was like giving a museum director a guided tour of his own museum—a tricky task at best.

He hoped it wasn’t a question of his male pride that made him want to show her the town.  He didn’t think so. What he wanted to do was allow her the luxury of relaxing and enjoying her hometown. And they only had a few days together before he’d return to San Antonio. Unless he got the job and moved here.

Suddenly, he found himself wishing he would get that job and not just because he needed a change and to get away. Before, it hadn’t mattered where he found a new position, as long as it was far away from his overprotective family. Now it mattered.  Just when he’d thought he was dead inside, he’d met Adriana. He would move heaven and earth to get the position at UNLV.

Reaching across the shadowy cab, he enfolded her hand in his, twining his fingers with her long slender ones. The way he was feeling tonight, he never wanted to let go.

#

They lingered over their drinks after dinner, holding hands and making small talk.  Actually, they’d been holding hands most of the night. Adriana smiled to herself. She liked holding his hand. His fingers were long and strong. His hands were both rough and smooth, and so very warm against her skin, reminding her of his lips.

Rafael had outdone himself tonight with taxicab rides and the Stratosphere at twilight.  She’d marveled from her perch of 100-plus stories to watch as the famous lights of Vegas blinked on. They’d been able to see in all directions, a rare 360 degree glimpse. Her hometown had looked like a spangled and bejeweled robe, spread beneath her feet.

Then Rafael brought her to a suburban area of Vegas, far from the hustle and bustle of the Strip, to a very French and very classy restaurant. When she’d first walked through the door and smelled the medley of aromas, she knew the food would taste wonderful, no matter what she ordered. And she’d been right. It had been the best dinner she’d ever eaten. Not only was the food superb, but the atmosphere was perfect for romance.

The restaurant was small and cozy with only a few tables. The walls were done in peach satin brocade, dotted with French Impressionist prints. Tall, potted areca palms, strategically located between tables, afforded a sense of privacy. There was muted candlelight to eat by and two live violin players had softly serenaded them.

She’d enjoyed talking with Rafael, too. He was knowledgeable and up-to-date on most topics, even the latest economic downturn that Vegas had suffered during the housing bust. It was refreshing to have an adult conversation with someone who possessed a sharp intellect and enjoyed a wide range of topics. Someone who wasn’t focused on just one obsession, like gambling or golfing or tennis.

Rafael Escobedo had blown into her life and like a breath of fresh air he’d taken her far away from her customary world without ever leaving the precincts of her hometown.

Their waiter appeared beside their table. “Another brandy, sir?”

“Do we have time?” she asked.

She knew he had tickets for the late show at the comedy club, Catch a Rising Star. She’d managed to tease that information from him at dinner. And despite her suggestion that they take in a comedy act, she didn’t care whether they went or not. She’d had a wonderful time and was perfectly content to call it an evening, though she did hate to see good tickets go to waste.

He checked his watch. “We’ve got plenty of time. Do you want anything else? Another latte?”

She shook her head.

“Do you mind if I have another?”

“No, please do.”

Turning to the waiter, he said, “Please, bring me another brandy. And bring our check, too.”

His gaze met hers. The wavering candlelight struck sparks from his dark brown eyes, revealing glints of gold, like precious nuggets lying at the bottom of a deep river. With his gaze fastened on her, he raised her hand to his mouth and trailed his lips over the back of her hand. She shivered at the unexpected moist touch of his lips against her skin. What would it feel like to have him trail his lips over all the secret places of her body?

The forbidden thought sent a sharp thrill of desire lancing through her body. The sensation was intense she could almost taste the danger, like what she’d imagined the “crazies” felt who’d been doing controlled free falls off the side of the Stratosphere.

Tingling all over and flushed with heat, she wasn’t accustomed to such thoughts. She’d often thought she was indifferent where men were concerned, unlike her few female acquaintances. Most men simply didn’t interest her, and the few she’d dated usually bored her.

But Rafael Escobedo was different. He’d gone out of his way to please her, and he was very attractive. The thought of becoming involved with him intrigued her. She’d never dated a man who would leave town after a few days. For her, it made their time together precious, almost enchanted, like something from a fairy tale.

Even more important, it made their time together safe—safe to experiment, and then continue with her life and pursue her ambition. Not that she didn’t want a family one day, especially if she could find someone like Rafael, but her father had taught her that timing was key. She couldn’t allow anything to stand in the way of her career, not until she was established and had time for a personal life.

Thinking about all that lay ahead: the long hours, late nights, office politics, and bone- crushing responsibilities, what felt like a cold draft of air raised goose bumps on her arms.

Clutching her shawl with one hand, she drew it tighter around her shoulders, feeling suddenly chilled in the cozy restaurant. Shivering, she clung to the one enduring source of warmth: Rafael’s hand.

Chapter Five

Rafael admired the view while sipping coffee from a paper cup. Black igneous rocks formed a deep canyon. Hoover Dam straddled the canyon, milky white against the inky rocks.  Behind the dam, the sparkling waters of Lake Mead fanned out like a giant hand with countless fingers. A tiny speck, a speedboat, moved across the vast waters, plowing a furrow behind it.  Below the dam, the green, roiling waters of the Colorado River rushed through sheer walls of rugged rock.

He could already feel the sting of the desert sun on the back of his neck, even though it was only mid-morning. Today would be hot. He was glad they’d gotten an early start to beat the heat as well as the crowds, even if it had meant only a few hours of sleep after a late evening.

Glancing down at the torturous road leading to the dam, he found it thronged with people, cars, and tour buses. Just as Adriana had predicted, the dam was mobbed. He and Adriana had come early, driving across the desert into the brilliant sweep of a multicolored sunrise, to take the first tour.

The tour had been interesting, amazing even, in its own way, a visual ode to mankind’s battle against the elements. The tour had illustrated, with canned dialogues and faded black-and-white photographs, how the workers had persevered under daunting conditions, including days when temperatures rose above one hundred and twenty degrees, to construct the dam.

They’d driven through the town of Boulder City, perched on top of a mountain. The town contained quaint frame houses and several parks—a model city built to house the dam workers, who had poured in, desperate for jobs during the Great Depression.

Out here was quite a contrast to Las Vegas, another world entirely, far removed from the bright lights of the Strip. The desert and canyons were elemental and forbidding, yet beautiful in a wild, untamed way. He was glad he’d come, grateful that she’d brought him, though he knew Adriana must have seen it at least a hundred times.

As if his thoughts had conjured her, he heard a noise behind him and turned. Adriana had returned from the small grocery store at the rest stop. With a cup of coffee in one hand and something wrapped in cellophane in the other, she walked carefully, picking her way across the rocky parking lot.

His gaze drank her in. The bright red slash of her halter top revealed more than it concealed, a golden-brown throat and shoulders, along with the alluring plunge to shadowed cleavage. Below the top, a triangle of exposed skin displayed the taut lines of her stomach. Brief white shorts showcased the curvaceous muscles of her tanned legs. Dressed in red and white, she looked like a peppermint, good enough to eat.

She held out the cellophane-wrapped object. “It’s a Moon Pie. I couldn’t resist. I love these things, but they’re hard to find in the city. Want a bite?”

He shook his head and turned away, trying to draw a steady breath. Every time he looked at her or smelled her special lemony scent, his body went into overdrive: pounding heart, sweaty palms, and rapid breathing, all symptoms of his overwhelming attraction and desire.

When she wasn’t working, Adriana had a flair for outfits that displayed her to-die-for figure. Not that he blamed her. She looked great and had every reason to show herself off. He just wished it wasn’t so hard on his libido: look but don’t touch. Unless he wanted to scare her off. Despite her revealing clothing, she’d disclosed very little about the inner Adriana—about the private person behind the beautiful face and body. They’d talked for hours last night and this morning but always about impersonal things.

He knew more than he wanted to know about her job and the courses she was taking.  He’d listened to her political beliefs and concerns about the fast-paced overcrowded world where they lived. He’d discovered that they’d both been raised Catholic, but she was a lapsed Catholic and seldom went to Mass. He followed his family’s example and attended Mass on most Sundays.

He knew next to nothing about Adriana’s background. He knew her mother had died, that she had one brother, and that her father worked in hospitality management. But each time he’d asked a question about her personal life, she’d deftly turned the conversation to more general topics. He could understand her reticence if he’d been just another high-roller client, but as of yesterday, he’d dropped the charade and started to date her, as one real person to another. Or at least he hoped so.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” The sound of her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I never get tired of coming here.” She gazed at the landscape he’d admired earlier, taking a bite of the Moon Pie and juggling her coffee. “Some people don’t like the desert.  I’ve even heard tourists say it frightens them with its wide open emptiness.”

She shrugged. “I guess I would feel that way if I were a pioneer, trying to cross in a covered wagon. But I’m not, and I enjoy its vast nothingness in contrast to the city. It can be lonesome out here, but it’s a good kind of lonesome, you know?” She laughed. “I’m not explaining myself very well, am I? To a professor, I must sound really clumsy with words.”

“Some things are harder to express, especially feelings.”

That’s the understatement of
the world.
.

“But I think I understand how you feel. While you were inside, I was feeling the power of this view. I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here.”

“It was the least I could do after last night.” Sighing, she met his gaze. In the bright sunlight, her indigo eyes had lightened, turning a cerulean blue, echoing the bowl of sky overhead.  “Last night was wonderful.”

“Almost as good as today.”

Taking another bite of Moon Pie, she faced Lake Mead. “The boaters are out early today.” Glancing up at the fierce disk burning in the cloudless sky, she said, “Probably a good thing. It’s going to be a scorcher.”

When she lowered the pie, a smudge of chocolate remained on her upper lip. Without thinking, he reached up, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it away, and succeeding in smearing it.

The touch of her warm skin seared him, burning a path to his guts. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the chocolate away, wanted to feel her lips beneath his, so soft and supple.

Tossing her head, she said, “I’ve made a mess, haven’t I? And not a napkin in sight.”  Reluctantly, he let his hand drop. She lifted her hand to her mouth and tried to wipe the chocolate away.